


Disco Inferno

by amythis



Series: Lenny Is a Rock Star [4]
Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Negotiations and renegotiations, disco and discovery, during Thanksgiving 1976.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Shirley Feeney/Carmine Ragusa
Series: Lenny Is a Rock Star [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875079
Comments: 40
Kudos: 3
Collections: Lenny is a Rockstar 'Verse





	1. Fly, Robin, Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> This is set between Chapter 10 of _Graduation Day_ and the one-shot _How You Get the Girl_ , both by Missy, in the Lenny Is a Rock Star 'verse.

Laverne's eyes were shut tight, but she could feel Lenny's hand gripping hers and hear Squiggy's voice observing, "Well, if we crash, at least the new album will go platinum."

She resisted the urge to choke Squiggy, and not just because Lenny was in the way. She wanted to tell Squiggy that she had three small children and she needed to see them grow up, as well as needing to reach her own potential. But he knew that, and he had a tiny, spit-curled baby at home.

"It's just his way," Lenny whispered.

She nodded and then the turbulence smoothed out as suddenly as it started.

She had never liked flying, and not just the time she had to fill in as pilot. But there was only one way to get between the coasts quickly, and the three of them had to go to New York.

"It's not fair," Tracy had pouted that morning over breakfast. "Why does Uncle Squiggy get to go, when it's all his fault?"

For the umpteenth time, Laverne had tried to explain to her seven-year-old that it was because it was Squiggy's fault that he had to go.

"But why can't you meet here, in Callyfornia, so we can meet Penny and Cindy?"

Laverne had given up explaining to her five-year-old that the two funny ladies on TV weren't real, or at least not in that way. "You'll meet them someday, Honey, but right now Mama and the guys are gonna have to go to New York to talk business, because that's how television works."

Josie shook her head of short black curls. "No, tellyvision works with lectricity and magic."

She wasn't wrong. And Laverne had asked her ex-husband why the business and legal side of show biz had to be in New York when movies and TV were made in Hollywood and the vicinity, but he just shrugged and said it'd been that way since the days of silents.

Lee would look after the kids while she was gone. She'd been looking forward to her first Thanksgiving with the kids and Lenny, but they had to go now, while the two actresses who played "Penny" and "Cindy" would be in the Big Apple for the Macy's Parade. She would also have to face a two-faced old crush. But she was most dreading seeing her best friend.

"It's too bad we can't take the kids to the parade, or to Rockefeller Center for the skating."

She opened her eyes and smiled at Lenny. "They'll watch the parade on TV tomorrow and maybe we can all go to New York over Christmas Break next year."

He smiled back. "I'd like that."

Squiggy just audibly said, "If you two are still together then."

Lenny's expressive face changed in an instant from looking like he might propose to Laverne in midair to looking like he might rip off his seatbelt and use it as a weapon against his best friend. Laverne put a restraining hand on his arm, so Lenny settled for glaring across the aisle and warning, "Don't, Squig."

"What? You ain't exactly known for Longines-evity."

"I've loved Laverne since before I could write my name!"

"Easy, Len. You don't gotta prove nothin' to nobody," she soothed, glad her kids weren't around to hear the triple negative.

She thought she knew what Squiggy was up to. If they got angry at him, they would forget about their fear of flying. Either that or getting them into this fix hadn't caused him any remorse.

She tried to relax and enjoy traveling first class. Lenny was used to it, celebrity that he was. Laverne, as a lawyer's wife, now ex-wife, could afford it, but she preferred to economize. The Network was paying for their travel and accommodation, so Laverne hadn't argued about that.

They might've even paid for the kids to go, but for once she wanted to leave them at home. Not only was this grown-ups' business, but she needed to have an adult discussion with Shirley.

She and the boys would be gone a little over forty-eight hours, flying back on Friday morning. If it were a longer visit, she'd take Lenny to Brooklyn, reintroduce him to her relatives. But she should probably wait until they could bring the kids along.

Frankie at two was too little and too easy-going to object to her departure. She hoped he wouldn't be upset when he realized Mommy would miss tucking him in two nights in a row. Would it help if she called after they checked into the hotel, or would that just make the separation harder on her and her kids?

She couldn't understand how Shirley had been fine with her son going off to camp this past summer. And before that, when Wally was only three, Shirley had left him at home while she went to the fifteen-year reunion. And the year after that, Shirley had gone away specifically to meet up with Lenny.

It would be easier to negotiate with Jerry Callahan than to rebuild her friendship with Shirley, but Laverne was going to New York to do both. If she had time, she'd go dancing with her adorably clumsy boyfriend.


	2. Still the One

"Please say something, Carmine."

He blinked and managed to gasp, "Lenny and Squiggy?"

"Yes, but just that one night with each "

"Does Laverne know?"

Shirley blushed. "Squiggy answered when she called my hotel the next morning."

"I bet she was surprised."

She grimaced. "She was mostly amused."

He couldn't blame Laverne. The idea of Shirley and Squiggy doing it would amuse most people. "What about you and Lenny?"

She quietly said, "We discussed it over the phone after they got together and we agreed that he should be the one to tell her."

He tried to control his temper as he asked, "And when were you planning to tell me?"

"Over Christmas."

"While I'm staying with you in Connecticut for a couple days?"

"Yes."

"Why? You figured I wouldn't yell at you in front of your kid?"

"Maybe," she admitted, "but it's also very peaceful there."

He felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't visited yet, but he reminded himself that he had had hardly any time off from the theater since she bought the cottage in New England and set up her practice. It was easier for her to get an overnight sitter and visit him in the City. Well, OK, easier for him.

He told himself that that was beside the point. There was no real reason why she couldn't have told him at his place, preferably before they started having a very active love life.

"How could you be sure the boys wouldn't tell me in the meantime?" Lenny and Squiggy were still "the boys," just like Laverne and Shirley were "the girls," and Carmine was the Big Ragoo.

She frowned. "I did worry that Squiggy might blurt it out to you, since he apparently used to brag about it to almost everyone who knew both of us."

"Great, so I'm the last to know."

"Well, I think Laverne's father doesn't know about any of this."

"That's very comforting, Shirl."

"I'm not the one who went around, um."

"Screwing and telling?"

She glared at him. "Carmine!"

"You know that's how Squiggy thinks of it."

"Well, maybe, but anyway, he was probably too scared to tell you, even though you and I were definitely not involved then."

He shifted uneasily, remembering that he'd brought his gorgeous, young girlfriend to that reunion. When he was younger, he had a tendency to fall hard and fast, but then it would fade away. Shirley was the only woman he'd loved for years and years, which used to make him think he couldn't be in love with her. Love wasn't supposed to feel so comfortable and familiar.

"I'm sorry about Taffy."

She shook her head. "The timing wasn't right for us back then. I was still in college and Wally was so little. I wasn't ready to relocate, especially after having moved around so much after I got married."

He knew he could've offered to relocate to Annandale, maybe pursued a career on stage in D.C., but that was a lot further off Broadway than he'd wanted to go.

"As for Lenny, he and I were both very single, although he was pining for Laverne."

Carmine and Lenny had talked about Lenny's undying crush in, let's see, the fall of '71, so five years ago. Carmine now recalled some of the weird looks Squiggy had given him on the boys' visit to New York, upon Lenny's return from sessions work in London for Paul McCartney, looks that were half guilty, half smug. The one-night stand with Shirley must've been fresh in that twisted little brain.

"Lenny and I agreed that there was no need to tell anyone, but I could tell Laverne someday."

"But you didn't."

"No, although I came close a few times."

"Have you girls talked about it since he told her?"

"No," she said quietly.

"Too bad one of your ex-lovers had to sell you out to Laverne's old crush."

"I wouldn't exactly describe Squiggy as an ex-lover."

"I'm trying to be polite."

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been as upfront about my past, especially as it involves our old classmates, as I might've been, but don't play the morality card with me, Carmine Ragusa. I have had sex with seven men in the last nine years or so, and before that you know I saved myself. And even if I hadn't, you haven't exactly been a monk all these years."

"Yeah, but I'm a man."

"Really? You're going to use the double standard in this day and age?"

Why was this conversation as uncomfortable for him as for her? It wasn't like he'd slept with Laverne. (Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind after Shirley ran off with Walter.)

"It's not just that. I don't like everyone except me knowing you fooled around with those two pickleheads."

"I told you I'm not responsible for Andrew's locker-room talk. And Lenny didn't even tell Squiggy until it came up during an argument about Francine getting Lenny hooked on cigarettes during their fling."

"Wait, Francine as in Squiggy's old girlfriend with the beehive who showed up as his pregnant fiancée at the last reunion?"

"Yes, you can talk to the boys about it when they come over tonight, while I'm hashing things out with Laverne."

He shook his head. "It's bad enough that I've got a six-pound turkey in the oven."

She sniffed the air and looked around the loft.

"It's my turkey but the neighbor's oven. Old Lady Pavarotti promised to cook it since I've got a late afternoon matinee." He glanced at his watch.

"Don't worry, I'll wrap this up soon."

"Yeah, you don't want to miss your meeting."

"Right," she said, as if she'd much rather have stayed home with her little boy for their first Thanksgiving in their new home but had to make this sacrifice for his college fund. Carmine melted towards her, until she said, "You may as well know, I necked with Richie Cunningham."

He blinked. "When Fonzie first set you up or when the kid danced with Laverne the time I emceed the Jefferson High Victory Dance? Because if it's the second one, you and me weren't together then."

"Neither."

"You necked with him the time I objected to your shotgun wedding?"

"Um, no, it was this past summer."

His eyes narrowed. "When this past summer?"

"After the Fillmore High reunion."

"What, you thought, _Hey, as long as I'm in Milwaukee, I should look up Richie Cunningham and see if he still wants to make out with me?"_

"It wasn't like that."

"Yeah, what was it like? 'Cause I think I made it pretty clear at the reunion that I was still interested. And you did call me up a few days later to ask if we could try again."

"I needed to think things through first."

"And have one last fling?"

"It was one makeout session and, yes, it might've gone further, but I realized that I wanted a serious relationship with you."

"What are you doing throwing all this at me, when I've got a show to do in an hour, and after that I've gotta host three of our old friends, two of whom you've gone to bed with."

"Well, technically three. I mean, Laverne and I literally slept together the time I won a honeymoon at the Hotel Pfister."

"And you two slept in a broken bed at the Royal Cactus Motel the time you checked into a room with Lenny and Squiggy. Unless you lied to me about that."

She gave him a look of hurt and anger, then turned away and coldly said, "I've got a meeting to go to. Sorry about dinner, but I think I'll head back to Westport."

He tentatively put his hand on her back. "Angel Face, wait. I'm sorry, but can you please try to see why this is tough for me?"

"I know," she said more softly. "And I really didn't want to tell you like this, but now you know. And I really do have to go."

"Can I at least have a hug goodbye?"

She turned and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, Carmine, but I can't pretend I don't have a past."

"OK. I love you, too, and I'll try to be cool about all this, but, well, you didn't used to be the type of girl who put out for Lenny and Squiggy."

"Or even you."

"Exactly." He wished they could make up in the bedroom, but that would have to wait until after he fed and then kicked out their friends. Well, he'd let the girls hash things out before he'd kick out Laverne.

For now, he'd have to settle for kissing in a shared cab.


	3. You Don't Have to Be a Star

Lenny fidgeted nervously in the reception area on the tenth floor. He'd offered to go into the conference room, as moral support, but Laverne had given him a look like he'd give her monkey nerves. Then she gave him a hug and whispered, "Don't worry, Lee says Bailey knows her stuff and she'll keep me from strangling Squiggy."

He'd nodded and clung tight before letting go. Lee's old law school classmate was supposed to be one of the best in entertainment law. Lenny just wanted Laverne to know he was rooting for her, as he always had.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Kosnowski?" the receptionist asked.

"Um, actually, can you let me use your phone?"

"I'm really not supposed to."

Lenny quickly sized her up. She looked like she was in what Squiggy called his "key demongraphic," a woman in her mid-twenties in a pink-collar job. This might work or she might laugh in his face, but he had to try or else call from Carmine's loft, and it was already going to be an awkward Thanksgiving dinner. He gave her the shy but sexy smile he'd flashed for dozens of magazine covers, as well as for an infamous centerfold where he'd flashed more than that. "What if I gave you my autograph?" He knew she saw celebrities every day, but hopefully not too many rock stars of his magnustude.

"Just an autograph?" she asked coyly.

He had to tread carefully now, especially with his girlfriend yards away. He would have to use his charm without crossing an invisible yet shifting line. "What'd you have in mind, Darlin'?"

"Two comp tix with no expiry for your next NYC concert, outer-borough-inclusive, first three rows, backstage passage optional."

"Um, you can settle that with my manager once he gets out of the meeting."

She nodded, stood up, and gestured that he should take her chair. "Five minutes, Mr. Kosnowski," she said in a brisk but less business-like tone. "Even on a holiday, we can't tie up the phone line."

"I'll try to be quick. And it's local."

She nodded again and went over to the water cooler. As she poured herself a cup and took a sip, he came around the desk, and sat down.

"You have to press seven to call out."

"Thanks." He lifted the receiver and tapped the seven button and then the digits he hadn't called in six months.

Someone picked up right away. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sadie, this is Lenny."

"Len, how the hell are ya?"

"I'm good. Listen, I'm sorry to bug you at home on a holiday, but I'm in town with some friends."

"You wanna come over? Marta's makin' plenty, like always."

He remembered them opening their home to him three Thanksgivings ago, when he was feeling overwhelmed by new fame and a very public breakup. "That's sweet of you, Sade, but we've already got dinner plans. But I was wondering, maybe later you could, you know, just this once."

"Would one of these friends happen to be a certain ladyfriend who's suin' the pants off a certain network that ripped off me and my sister five years ago?"

"Um, sort of," Lenny whispered, hoping this call wasn't being tapped.

"Hey, Sis, guess who's gettin' disco lessons from 'the real Penny Masciarelli'?"

"Oo la la!" Marta Krafft yelled back, presumably from the kitchen.

Sadie said into the phone, "OK, ten to midnight, tonight only. I'll give Clyde a head's up and double time."

"Thanks, Sade, you're a doll. I owe ya."

"Nah, we owe you, but we've got a new pilot with Rick West, so once that sells...."

He knew that, thanks to Marta's wild imagination and Sadie's bad luck with negotiations, the sisters often spent more than they made. He also knew that it would be pointless to remind Sadie that he intended it to be a gift, not a loan. "No hurry. But I gotta run."

"OK, but when you're in town longer sometime, bring the childhood sweetheart along, and any kids, for some of Marta's cooking."

"I will. Love you."

"Love ya, too, Len."

After Lenny hung up and stood up, he wondered if he should explain the phone call, but the receptionist didn't look the slightest bit curious. She brought him a small cup of water and he nodded his thanks. He went back to his seat and drank the water slowly and carefully, hoping he wouldn't spill it.

He was nervous about this whole trip, not just the flying. He was secondhand nervous for Laverne at the meeting, and for Squiggy and Shirley to a lesser extent. He was nervous for himself and everyone at the upcoming dinner at Carmine's. And now he was going to add to his nerves by dancing, although at least it wouldn't be entirely in public.

Every time a door down the corridor opened, Lenny looked over nervously yet hopefully, but only strangers emerged. And then when it was someone he recognized, he grabbed a magazine and hid behind it, unaware until Jerry Callahan and his small entourage were safely in the middle elevator, that Lenny's own face was on the cover. Not that he didn't want to confront Callahan someday and ask him questions ranging from "How could you abuse the memory of the most wonderful girl in the world?" to "Why'd you have to make Mikey Swedish?" But Lenny didn't feel up to it right then.

The next people out of the room were presumably from The Network, since they disappeared into another room, further down the hall. And then emerged his beloved, her estranged-over-him best friend, and the two actresses who portrayed a version of their younger selves. "Inspired by" was the phrasing everyone was supposed to agree to today.

"Nonsense, you have a lovely voice, Annie," Shirley was saying.

"Oh, pshaw," replied a very un-Fifties-looking edition of Josie Levy's favorite TV star. "I was so nervous, all those people watching, in person and at home!"

"Yeah," cracked her costar in a Bronx accent, "we've been so busy doin' the show, we didn't even know we were famous." She also looked very different than she did on Laverne's Magnavox last Tuesday, as Tracy said, "Of course Penny would rather go to the circus with Mikey and Landy than hang out with Big Ruby, but stupid Cindy always has to butt in." Then Laverne had to break up a fight between her daughters, as Lenny protected Frankie and the bowl of Jiffy Pop.

"You're kidding!" Laverne now gasped. "You got one of the top ten shows in the country and my little girls wouldn't miss an episode for the world."

"It doesn't feel real yet," said Annie McHugh.

Janice Dreyfuss nodded and gazed regretfully at the No Smoking sign that Lenny had noted earlier, although he was trying to quit. She looked at her older soul sister again and said, "That reminds me, I need to get you autographs for your kids."

Ms. McHugh turned to Shirley and asked, "Did you want one for your son?"

"I'm very sorry, but Wally prefers public television."

"No need to apologize. I never even watched sitcoms until I landed on one."

"Anna is a serious actress," Ms. Dreyfuss said with amusement, affection, jealousy, and pride. "I'm just funny without tryin'."

Laverne nodded and then noticed Lenny poised uncertainly on a chair. "Len, get your cute little tushy over here and meet the girls." She waved him over.

He stood up, without tripping, and made his way down the hall. The two actresses exchanged looks that he realized with shock meant that, their own fame notwithstanding, they regarded him as a sexy rock star.

Laverne made introductions, and Lenny tried not to be distracted that he was in the same building with Shirley for the first time since he'd accidentally confessed to Laverne. He'd called her from the road, when she was back in Annandale after the last reunion. Her fourteen-year-old niece had practically swooned when she answered and heard his voice, even though Linda knew that Aunt Shirley grew up with a couple celebrities. Linda of course didn't know that Shirley once knew Lenny in a Biblical sense, but Linda's mother did. Walter's sister, Jeanie Meeney Sweeney, soon to be Jeanie Meeney Sweeney Feeney, since she was engaged to Shirley's brother Christopher, had never met Shirley's friends and she could keep secrets.

Shirley found enough privacy to ask Lenny, "Well, how did it go?"

"She loves me!" he'd marveled, still feeling Laverne's kisses on his lips days later.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you two!"

"Thank you. But I gotta know, you didn't tell her anything about us last week, did you?"

"I tried but she was too focused on whether you were interested in her."

"When have I not been interested in her? Even when I was nuts about Sabrina Bouche, I still sang a duet about eyesex with Laverne."

"Yes, well, now that she's reassured of your interest, I think she should be told."

"By who?"

"Whom, and obviously it should be by the person with her best interests at heart."

So of course he thought Shirley meant herself, because there was a time when the girls would've died to protect each other. But when he brought it up with Laverne a few weeks ago, it turned out that Laverne hadn't had a clue. Lenny didn't blame Shirley, since he had probably just been stupid, but it did add to the Turkey Day awkwardness.

Shirley now suddenly said, "Laverne, will you ride down with me so I can tell you what to bring to the potluck?"

"Potluck? You mean Carmine isn't slaving over a hot stove all day?"

"Well, you know Carmine," Shirley said with an edge, like she knew about all the times Laverne had kissed and more with Carmine after Shirley ran off with Walter.

Laverne blushed a little and then said, "Be right back." She kissed Lenny on the cheek and then caught the left elevator with Shirley.

As the doors shut, Lenny wondered if he should take the elevator on the right and try to stop a catfight in the lobby.

"So, Kosnowski, I'll give you mine if you give me yours," offered a flirtatious Bronx voice.

He looked at the taller actress. "Huh?"

"Autographs." She mimed writing. "My twelve-year-old daughter will piss herself when she finds out I met you."

It was a little weird to hear that voice swear anything harsher than "hubba hubba," "heiny," and other Family Hour euphemisms, and equally weird that someone who was playing a character fresh out of her teens was the mother of an adolescent. But Lenny had heard that Ms. Dreyfuss wasn't much younger than Laverne, and she'd married and had a kid pretty young.

"OK," he said, and then looked at the actress who had Shirley's dimples. "Laverne's middle kid, Josie, worships you and she keeps asking when Cindy is gonna marry the Mega Mekka."

Both actresses laughed and Ms. McHugh said, "And kill the show?"

"Yeah, we saw what happened to Rhoda."

The receptionist now came over and said, "Would you like to borrow these?" She held out her steno pad and pen.

Lenny thanked her, wrote an autograph for young Myrna, and handed the pad and pen to Myrna's mother.

It was as Ms. McHugh was writing a long message to a little girl who could only read three-letter words, that an elevator pinged open, but it was the middle elevator, and a tall man with brown hair and a droopy mustache stepped out. He smiled and went over to the actress with posture as bad as his own. He kissed her and then asked, "Hey, Baby, how was the meeting?"

"A bloodbath. Lenny, this is my husband, Marty DiBergi, the director."

Lenny felt bad that he'd never heard of the man, especially when the guy beamed and said, "Wow, Lenny Kosnowski! I'm a huge fan." Lenny was preparing to go into his modesty act, which wasn't entirely an act, when Mr. DiBergi continued, "Yes, a huge fan of it."

"It?" Lenny had never had his music referred to that way and he felt a little insulted.

"Yeah, I.T., the Iron Thamesmen. You did sessions work on their _Hear the Hippies_ album."

"Oh, right, in '67. They were just the Thamesmen then and hadn't gone metallic yet."

"Right, that wasn't until they met Brass Monkey."

"Hello." Squiggy finally emerged from the meeting room, followed by Bailey, who was taking a notepad and pencil out of a briefcase.

Lenny made introductions and pulled Squiggy aside to whisper, "I got Sadie's OK for tonight."

Instead of looking pleased, Squiggy scowled and said, "Great, and I'm gonna have to go stag 'cause I left Francine at home with the kid." Lenny was about to suggest Squiggy just stay in that night, since it was a very nice hotel and there was plenty to do there, even on a holiday, but Squiggy walked over to Ms. McHugh, who was on her second page of the message to Josie. "Listen, Dollcheeks, I'm on my own in the cold, lonely city and tonight I need a dame who can move it like you did on that float. Strictly ballgown, since I'm a happily married man."

She looked up from the steno pad in confusion. "Um, I, I have a plane to catch this evening."

"Yeah," said her costar, "we gotta get to the airport as soon as possible."

"Traffic," murmured the director and pushed the down button.

Ms. McHugh handed the steno pad to Lenny and said, "Tell Shirley I appreciate the advice about my pets." Then she joined the couple by the bank of elevators.

As the middle doors opened and the three of them stepped in, Ms. Dreyfuss said, "And tell Laverne I'll come over on Christmas and bring the kids souvenirs from the show."

"I'll have my people call your people!" Squiggy called after them as the doors shut.

Lenny shook his head. "You are your people."

"No, I'm some of your people, but they don't need to know that."

Squiggy really was Lenny's people, even back when Lenny sort of hadn't had anyone. That was why he could never stay mad at the little guy.

Squiggy looked around until his eyes landed on the receptionist. She was wearing the dubious but amused expression Lenny had seen on countless female faces in the past twenty-five years. Squiggy seemed to decide she was too young and good-looking, since he muttered, "Nah, Francine would castigate me."

Bailey finally put away her notes and walked over to the elevators. She pressed the button and then turned and said, "Mr. Kosnowski, please let your girlfriend know that I'll send her the final paperwork next week."

He nodded and felt that still novel tingle at hearing someone call Laverne his girlfriend.

She turned to face the elevators again, and Lenny could see Squiggy appraising her, from the sensible low heels to the gray skirt and blazer, on up to the mousy hair in a smooth bun. Bailey Scott was thirty-three but dressed like one of their spinster high school teachers. She must've passed the Francine Test, because Squiggy caught the left elevator with her.

Again left alone with the receptionist, Lenny carefully tore off the top two sheets of the steno pad and handed it back to her with quiet thanks and a promise to get her the complimentary tickets. He was just wondering if Laverne and Shirley were all right, when the right elevator opened on the most amazing person in the world.

Laverne peered out and asked, "Where is everybody?"

"They all had to go."

"But Squiggy has to get the vegetable platter!"

Lenny got into the elevator. "We might be able to catch him in the lobby."

The doors shut and Laverne pressed the "L" button. "We're doing cranberry sauce, gravy, and candied yams. Shirley brought a green-bean casserole she made in Connecticut and she's gone to pick up pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Carmine's covering cornbread and rolls, and his neighbor's making the turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes."

"How are we gonna cook in the hotel?"

"We'll have to do store-bought I guess."

"What about drinks?"

"Bring your own, although I think we should get apple cider for everyone."

He nodded. "I'll call Donna from the hotel and maybe she can help." He hated bothering his New York personal assistant on such short notice on a holiday, especially since he'd told Susan, his L.A. P.A., to stay home with her family, but he did need local assistance.

"Great. I think we'll have enough for five people, even though Shirley's a vegetarian."

"So, uh, that's all you girls talked about, all that time?"

"We talked about the kids a lot, like how my girls had probably squealed at 'Penny' and 'Cindy' singing 'Da Do Ron Ron' like us watching Fabian on our black & white set. She watched the parade on TV with Wally before she caught the train into the City, but she feels guilty that she won't be able to celebrate Thanksgiving with him until tomorrow. And of course I told her how guilty I feel about leaving my kids. But we agreed that this thing with The Network had to be settled for all four kids' futures."

He thought of how he wanted to make babies with Laverne, but he knew it wasn't the moment to bring that up. And maybe it wasn't the moment to breach another delicate topic, but he had to ask, "Did you, um, talk about me?"

"Yeah, she wondered if you knew a good caterer in town who'd throw something together at the last minute so we don't have to scramble to find everything."

"Sorry, no. But I meant...."

"I know what you meant, Len. We agreed we'll go for a walk after dinner and talk things out then."

He nodded and then the elevator opened on the lobby and his agent said, "OK, here are the terms of the settlement...."


	4. Right Back Where We Started From

Shirley had never been at a dinner party before where everyone had seen her naked, and she them. That it was a small dinner party was no comfort.

The food was good and plentiful, thanks in part to Lenny's personal assistant, who had dropped off Tupperware-sealed side dishes an hour ago, before the three guests from California arrived with their purchases in bags from Saul's Deli. Shirley was having a little bit of everything except the turkey and ham. It kept her from having to say anything beyond a little small talk.

She knew the situation was uncomfortable for everyone else, especially empathetic Lenny, who alternated casting anxious glances with shoveling in food like his Shotz lunch hour had been chopped to fifteen minutes. Shirley supposed she could've avoided this situation if she hadn't had any one-night stands in college, but she had been more focused on her professional future, which was a clearer path than the road to romance. In vet school, she dated sensibly, with breakups that left no baggage.

She was also distracted by the feeling that she should be with her son. For eight and a half years, they had been a team. They weren't inseparable like Laverne and her kids, since Barb Feeney's daughter knew how apron strings can choke, but she tried to foster mutual dependability rather than dependency. Holidays mattered, although Wally was happy to have a sleepover at his best friend Adam's house. The Stephenses had been very welcoming neighbors and Shirley trusted them with her only child. She still would've rather been in her new home with Wally and their St. Bernard puppy, Nana, than spending Thanksgiving with these four adults she loved in complicated ways.

Suddenly Squiggy threw down his napkin and rose to his feet. "I can't stand it no more! Carmine, I humped Shirley five years ago. It was one of the best screws of my life, but I could never give her the kinda devotion you can. Not countin' Lucille, Taffy, and all your other dames. She was always meant to be your Angel Face, and I just hope I didn't rune her for other men. And, Shirl, you gotta move on and see how happy I am as the man of the housed, even though I never thought I'd be the settle-down type. But Moth is the cutest baby in the world and Francine's got me beswitched, especially with this one thing she does with her elbows...."

His expression turned as glazed as the ham, while Laverne choked on a bite of yam as she tried to hold in her laughter. Lenny gently thumped her back and Shirley wondered if she should intervene as the doctor in the room.

The actor also threw down his napkin and stood up, although less dramatically. "OK, Squig, we're goin' for a little walk."

"Lenny!" Squiggy yelped helplessly.

Carmine jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, "Yeah, Len, you'd better come, too."

Lenny swallowed the smorgasbord in his mouth and looked at Laverne again. His girlfriend gave him a _Go, I'm fine_ expression and he nodded and kissed her cheek. He stood up, his napkin still tucked into his slacks, like after what Shirley's sixteen-year-old nephew called the Lobster Liberation League fled La Fondue, when Kenny Sweeney was still a twinkle in his then going steady, now long divorced parents' eyes.

As the men put on their old jackets ("The Big Ragoo," "The Lone Wolf," and cracked leather), with warm, pricy winter coats over those, she heard Squiggy loudly whisper, "Two against one. I think we can take him, Len."

"I'm not gonna hit Carmine after eating his salt and pepper," Lenny whispered back just as loudly.

"OK, then you trip him and I'll run."

Carmine gave her a _Can you believe these two pickleheads?_ look from across the large, high-ceilinged living/dining room, and she wanted to laugh, except she'd actually seen and touched their, um, pickles.

After the front door shut, Laverne said, "They're still the boys, aren't they?"

Shirley nodded. "Carmine, too."

"Yeah, and we're still the girls, aren't we?"

Laverne always acted like she was simple and what-you-see-is-what-you-get, but Shirley could hear the layers in that question. "Always."

Laverne took a sip of apple cider before she said, "Look, Shirl, I was mad when Lenny told me, and I'm not gonna pretend it doesn't matter. I don't give a crap that it's The Seventies and sex is like shaking hands for some people. That's not who you are, or were, and I felt betrayed."

"I know," Shirley said quietly.

"At the same time, I know I'm a possessive hypocrite and you already had to listen to crap from Carmine about this. I've never been good about Lenny being with other women, except Karen, and that was probably because I knew she was just passing through. I still think you should've told me, especially right after it happened, but I know you're not good at saying stuff to my face."

Shirley hadn't been expecting that. Maybe it was her medical training, but she resisted the urge to react defensively. "Can you please explain?"

"Well, it's not like we've never fought, but sometimes you were kind of secretive, like with your diaries."

Shirley nodded. "With four brothers and Barb, I had to hide away parts of myself."

"I know. But it's also, well, your note."

"What note?"

"Your goodbye note. The second page of it disappeared for a few days, and I felt really abandoned. Even after I found the missing sheet, I felt disconnected from you. You had this whole new life with marriage and motherhood and travel, and I felt left behind in more ways than one. And even when we saw each other again a couple years later, and we both had babies, it wasn't like before, because you were this brave widow who was going to be a nurse."

"I was scared, Vernie, but I had to make plans, because that's what I do."

"I know, but there I was, a fat, boring housewife with one, two, three babies, and you became this brilliant, sexy coed, running around without a bra—"

"Because my boobs are tiny compared to yours!"

Both women laughed and then Shirley said, "And you could never be boring."

"Well, thanks, but I'm just explaining how I felt sometimes. Other times, I felt like I 'won,' because I had a marriage that lasted longer and more kids. And I know I'm a rotten person, but I'm trying to be honest here."

"You're not rotten. And I'd have moments where I'd envy you and others where I'd pity you. But that's not why I slept with Lenny, as a competition I mean."

"Why did you?"

"What did he say?"

"You were sweet and you gave him a pity— you pitied him."

"Oh, Leonard," Shirley said, wanting to shake her head and pat his arm even in his absence. "He was sweet, and needy, and cuddly, and attentive. I know he's a rock stud now, with _Cosmo_ and everything, and I know you two have a very passionate relationship. But the Lenny Kosnowski of 1972 was a mess who needed to be loved by someone who expected nothing from him except to be loved back in a way that wouldn't break our friendship. I mean mine with him, and I couldn't let myself think too much about my friendship with you, although of course I did."

"So you didn't even come?"

"Of course I came, Laverne!" Shirley snapped. "I was on top."

Both women starting giggling helplessly, like they were pushing twenty instead of forty.

When they could breathe again, Shirley remembered her duties as co-hostess and asked, "Did you want any cheese balls?"

"Hello. Did you broads finish comparing notes on the six-foot Pole or should we come back in five minutes?"

"Uh, I think we're through," Laverne said and Shirley nodded, although she knew they would talk all of this out over the next few months, or years.

"Great, 'cause we were freezin' our asses out there."

Lenny went from looking self-conscious to boyishly eager. "If you girls are bosom buddies again," an obligatory hand-bite here, with Squiggy automatically air-smooching, "then I've got a little surprise."

"A surprise?" both women said warily and in sync.

Carmine sighed and said, "Let me call my wardrobe lady and see what she can dig up on short notice."

Shirley was dubious about whatever required costumes on Thanksgiving night, but, as always with these old friends, she knew she wouldn't want to miss out on the insanity.


	5. You Should Be Dancing

As Lenny paid the cabbie, Squiggy noticed that someone was hassling Clyde. A tall, imposing, blond man with a side part yelled, "The lights are on! Why can't we come in?"

The bouncer crossed his burly arms and gruffly said, "Private party tonight."

"Do you know who my father is?" demanded the man, who looked about thirty.

"I know," Clyde said quietly.

"Honey," whined the platinum blonde in a long, silvery fur coat, "I'm so cold!"

"We'll go to Fifty-Four. It's much cooler, and hotter." The man signaled to his waiting limo driver, who backed up. The blond couple got in and the limo headed out into the rainy night.

"Who was that?" Shirley asked.

"Spoiled rich boy," Carmine muttered.

"Who's his father?" Laverne asked.

Lenny answered, "This real estate typhoon who gets sued a lot but knows how to work the system."

Part of Squiggy admired that, but he knew better than to say it. It was bad enough he'd needlessly confessed to Carmine at the dinner table. Or that he'd spilled secrets to Callahan for dough.

"You all go on in," he told his friends. "I'll wait out here for Bailey."

"You'll freeze your ass off." Laverne's teasing tone couldn't hide the concern in her eyes.

"I'm her asexual date," he insisted stubbornly.

Shirley kissed his cheek and then gave Carmine one of her old _Take pity on Squiggy_ looks. Carmine sighed but shed his red vinyl coat and handed it to Squiggy. Squiggy nodded his thanks and again squelched his annoyance that underneath Carmine was in Squiggy's signature color, from unbuttoned silk shirt to platform shoes.

By the time Squiggy had that extra layer over his own faux raccoon coat (which had made Shirley shriek when he first showed up at the meeting), Lenny was stripping off his brown suede jacket with the fringe. He draped it on Squiggy like a cape. Then the two couples hurried in.

Squiggy stood next to Clyde, only partly protected from the elements by the bouncer's bulk and the candy-cane-colored awning.

"Thank you for doing this tonight," said the man who hardly ever said thanks, please, or sorry.

Clyde shrugged with one shoulder. "Sadie promised me overtime and Christmas is coming. And I got kids."

"Yeah, money is good, especially with kids."

Clyde nodded. "You don't have to wait out here, you know. You can tell me what she looks like and I'll let her in when she gets here."

Squiggy thought of how she'd been on time to the meeting, but she was on the clock then. (He and Laverne were late because he had to call long distance and wish Moth a happy first Thanksgiving, although all he got was a belch in reply.) Ms. Scott was under no real obligation to show up, and he wouldn't be surprised if she stood him up. Maybe he should just go in and hope that the girls would give him pity dances. He described the mousy lawyer, just in case.

Clyde said, "Then that can't be her."

Squiggy looked over at a woman paying a different cabbie. Only the big brown eyes showed that this was the quiet but ruthless entertainment lawyer who fought for Laverne and Shirley not just because of Lenny's attainer but for "sisterhood," although none of them was related. The mouse-shark was made up like a model, with her hair loose and wavy like Lenny's most famous ex, Farrah Fawcett.

Squiggy was starting to regret not inviting the receptionist instead, but he politely said, "Thanks for coming."

"Of course. I've heard about Krafftwerks for weeks, but I never thought I'd get in, since they're so exclusive."

"It's all who you know."

Clyde opened the door for them, but followed them in and locked the door behind them. Squiggy didn't blame him not wanting to stay outside on this cold, wet night, even though that was Clyde's job. And it wasn't like they were expecting anybody else.

Then Clyde held out one big hand and said, "I'm also coat check girl tonight."

Squiggy stripped off all the coats and jackets, handing them to Clyde one by one. Then Bailey unbuttoned her trenchcoat, gave it to Clyde, and thanked him. She was in a skin-tight, purple jumpsuit with a low neckline and flares below the knee.

"You look nice," Squiggy admitted.

"Thanks. I know you said no one else was going to be here, but hey, it's Krafftwerks."

"You want a tour?" Squiggy glanced over at Clyde, who was now on the coat check stool, reading a paperback copy of _Roots_.

"Definitely! Is it true every room has a theme based on one of their shows?"

"Yeah, they all look like propergander for psychedelicatessen drugs for tots."

Clyde chuckled, even though he knew better than anyone that Marta just had a nutty imagination that looked like the Summer of Love her whole life. She had Sadie hire Lenny to do the theme song for _You Know, UFO_ (which actually went Top Ten) because of both "Sugar Sugar" and the _Hear the Hippies_ album. Sessions work was not as disposable and anonymous as Lenny had hoped.

"Cool. I can't wait to see the underwater room."

"They're in chronometric order." He led her down the hallway, stopping at each doorway. There were no DJs spinning platters tonight, just cassettes playing for two hours. It was simpler and cheaper this way. The first room was then blasting the Brothers Johnson's "Get the Funk Out of My Face," which was a contrast to the wild, cheerful colors of the _Mayor Unicorn_ theme, based on the Kraffts' breakthrough show about a thirteen-year-old boy being shipwrecked on an island where all the animals, minerals, and vegetables talked and the wicked witch wanted the kid's magic oboe, which still made Squiggy snicker.

Then came the room for _The Musicquitoes,_ about a British rock band who were bugs; and the one for _Toppertown,_ which was populated by giant, talking hats. Laverne's daughters had done their best to explain all these to Squiggy, who hoped Moth would have better crap to watch in a few years.

The next few rooms weren't as trippy, although still weirder than something classic, like _Winky Dink and You_ or _Heckle and Jeckle._ In order they were _Marvin and the Mermaids; Prehistoric Perils; I Said Launch, Not Lunch; You Know, UFO;_ and _The Mad Scientist Who Made Teenagers Grow Small Instead of Grow Up_ (working title).

All of these rooms were empty. Then at last, in the Electric Lady and Dynamic Maid Room, he saw his four oldest, dearest friends. Carmine and Shirley were dancing back to back. Squiggy had always thought the dancing side of the Big Ragoo was sissy, but he couldn't deny Carmine had moves. And Shirley, in a red, lowcut, spaghetti-strapped number Carmine's wardrobe lady dug up, a pink tropical flower in her hair, looked so sweet and happy, cute and beautiful. Squiggy would always love her, not in a pining Kosnowski kind of way, but more like that he knew she had made him a better man because she was a good woman. Laverne was in a wavy-blue-striped minidress with billowing sleeves and sequins, accessorized by a matching head scarf and thigh-high white boots, still kind of '60s in a way that drove Lenny crazy. Squiggy's best friend was in a tight white leisure suit, with a black, collared shirt and black platforms like Carmine. Squiggy himself was in gold, which Laverne had told him made him look like a trophy, although he wasn't sure if she'd meant it as a compliment.

Laverne broke off from teaching Lenny dance steps to grab her camera and make Squiggy and Bailey pose next to the superheroine standees. Then she went back to Lenny, and put her hands on his hips, making him blush and giggle.

"You don't gotta dance with me," Squiggy told the lawyer.

"No, it was part of the deal, 'tripping the light fanatic.' Besides, I can take a hint." She pointed at the speakers, which were blaring the Bee Gees.

One of the things that bugged Squiggy about disco music was how pushy it was, telling him things like "Everybody here tonight must boogie/ Let me tell ya, you are no exception to the rule/ Get on up, on the floor/ 'Cause we're gonna boogie oogie oogie/ 'Till you just can't boogie no more," or simply "Do the Hustle." He wanted to argue that just because a bunch of guys with falsettos told him he should be dancing, that didn't mean he wanted to. (At his tenth-anniversary party, he would grumble, "Maybe everybody don't wanna have fun tonight, maybe everybody don't wanna Wang Chung tonight," but his wife would still lure him onto the dance floor.) Still, he didn't want to be a wet banquet on Thanksgiving.

By midnight, Squiggy would dance with everyone in the room, not excepting the cardboard Krafft characters.


End file.
